


If this is Our Last Night

by remusirius



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Locked In, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, kind of, silver pining for flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remusirius/pseuds/remusirius
Summary: His hands start stroking up and down my thighs, his mouth lingering just above the waistband of my trousers.“Please”, I whisper, almost unable to bear his teasing.Silver and Flint are locked up together on the Walrus.Certain of their looming death at an enraged crew’s hands, Silver finds the courage to do things he’d only dreamed of until now.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Kudos: 36
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	If this is Our Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Wonderfully betaed by @theskyandsea :) thank you!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated!

James rattles the doorknob. There is metal creaking, the wood groans a bit, but the door remains shut. 

_Thud._

This idiot really has thrown himself against the locked door shoulder-first. And he’s about to do it again.

“Don’t”, I say. He ignores me. The wood groans again. Now there is also banging onto the door from the outside.

As fast as my crutch and leg will allow, I hobble over to where he looks ready to slam himself into the door yet again.

“Don’t”, I repeat, laying my right hand on his shoulder. He looks at me like I’ve offended him with my plea. Like it’s me who’s locked him in here. 

“What’s the use?” I continue. “They’ll just put us in chains if you break that door. And I would prefer not to spend tonight chained to a wall.” Especially if it is our last, which I fear may really be true this time.

“And why is that?” Maybe I’m hearing ghosts now, but does his voice sound a bit teasing? A bit like he’s laughing at me? My hand is still resting on his shoulder, even though he’s relaxed under me, and no longer feels like he’ll jump at the door again. 

I also realize how close I’m standing to him. I can feel the heat coming from his body. I’m suddenly very aware of my accelerating heartbeat. _Can he hear it?_ I wonder. _Can he feel the warmth of my body too?_

_Why, you ask? Because I want to know what it’s like to hold you. What it’s like to kiss you._

_At least once, before we die._

_Because I want you to know you’re not the monster they make you out to be. Not to me._

That’s why. But it’s not like I have the guts to just tell him.

“If I were chained to the wall, I couldn’t do this”, I say, lifting my hand from his shoulder to brace the side of his face and stroke my thumb over his cheek. 

He closes his eyes, and his breath hitches. It’s so quiet, I nearly miss it. 

When he opens his eyes again, it may well be that he truly sees me for the first time. His stare is piercing, like he hopes to spot my soul hiding behind my eyes. 

I am the first to give out and look away. My eyes get stuck on his lips. They are slightly parted - they weren’t a minute ago, were they?

And would he stop licking them every few seconds? That is definitely not helping me focus at all. 

I start moving my hand away from his shoulder.

“Don’t”, he says. “I…” He never finishes that sentence, but instead lifts a hand to my hair, getting his fingers tangled in the strands.

Emboldened by this, I move my hand down to his shoulder, and, using him for support, I lean forward to kiss him.

His grip on my hair tightens, but he doesn’t push me away. Instead, slowly, he starts moving his lips in sync with mine. That’s when he takes a step backward, stumbling under my weight and crashing us both into the wall next to the door.

We freeze for a second, but lucky for us, the guard outside doesn’t react.

I’ve toppled half on top of him, and now whatever charm lay over the moment before is broken, I feel wrong. _What was I thinking?_

I scramble to right myself again and sit down on an upturned crate at the other end of the room, putting as much room between us as the cramped space will allow. My face feels hot, burning from shame and embarrassment.

He doesn’t say anything, just slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor.

We sit in silence for an eternity.

“Why now?” he finally asks.

“I figured we might well be dead come tomorrow. I wanted to know what this feels like.”

“Kissing a man?” he asks, disdainfully. “Happy to have been of service.”

“No.” 

He gives me a sharp look.

“Kissing you”, I correct. After a moment, I admit, “Although… you are the first man I’ve kissed, too.” I don’t want him to think he’s just some experiment, a means to have some curiosity of mine satisfied. And he is, in a way. But he’s also so much more. 

He gives me a flat look. I worry he still doesn’t understand. 

“Which is mostly to be blamed on me never having met a man who…” I start, trying to take the blow out of what I’ve just said, but I’m unable to say the words. To describe what he is to me, how unimaginably attracted I am to him. Even in moments like this, when all seems hopeless. Again.

Especially in moments like this, when anger makes his face flush and the veins in his arms pop, reminding me of how I’d started to notice his broad shoulders and strong arms weeks, maybe even months ago. 

“A man who what?” he asks, picking up where I left off.

“Does to me what you do. The things you’ve made me want – I’m afraid to speak them even now, even here.”

James doesn’t say anything for a long while. When he does again, he begins with a weary sigh. 

“I know that feeling”, he says. “And I remember how it felt like I could never talk about it, not even if someone had broached the subject.” He gets up and walks over to me. Not as close as I did to him, but around a step out of my reach. 

“Thomas?” I ask. 

“If this is to work, between us, tonight, you will not say his name again.” He gives me a hard look. “Do you understand?” 

I nod, and he takes a step closer. Then another, until he is standing above me. I look up at him.

“If you don’t want this, now would be a prime time to say so.” 

“I want this”, I say, and it’s the truth. _When was the last time I wanted something so bad?_

He grips my shoulder hard in his right hand and sweeps down to claim my lips in an almost brutal kiss, hard-concealed hunger and long-suffered yearning finally coming out.

Yearning I’m not sure is entirely aimed at me. In this moment, I don’t care. I’ll happily oblige his command. I let him push me further back, until my head hits the wall softly, while I open my mouth to his pleading for access. His tongue pushes hotly into my mouth. 

I reach my hands up to caress his head and pull him closer to me, while his finds the leather strap keeping my hair out of my face and undoes it. He starts carding his fingers through my hair, pulling at it just hard enough. I moan in pleasure.

He moves us to the floor. I cling to him, having lost my crutch and my will to do anything other than kiss him or rip off his clothes.

Really, it would be so much easier to touch his chest and back without his shirt in the way, and so I move to take it off him. He intercepts me, taking it off himself and then he is back on me again, abandoning my mouth in favour of sucking on my neck. And oh my, does this feel good. 

“James,” I cry out, moaning my pleasure out loud enough for the whole sea to hear it. 

He hushes me, and I remember we’re locked in a room on the Walrus. I’d really rather not give the rest of the crew any incentive to walk in on us right now, so I keep as quiet as I can, whispering, telling him how good it feels.

“Pleased to see you can keep quiet even in the heat of the moment”, he teases. “Can you still keep quiet at this?” He unbuttons my shirt and trails his mouth down my chest. “And this?”

I can, gripping his shoulders ever harder as his mouth wanders lower, in an effort not to get too loud.

His hands start stroking up and down my thighs, his mouth lingering just above the waistband of my trousers. 

“Please”, I whisper, almost unable to bear his teasing. His hands finally get to work opening my fly and pulling down my trousers just enough to reveal my cock, painfully hard and straining against its confines.

He pulls my trousers further down and then strokes up my thighs with his hands ever so slowly.

“Just get on with it”, I grit out, but he is far from obeying me. 

He puts one strong arm on my abdomen, keeping me down, while his other hand continues stroking up and down my thighs.

Every now and then, his hand darts up to tease over my balls or my cock, only to return to my thighs.

“Please”, I whimper.

Finally, his mouth is back on me again, trailing kisses down from my navel.

I grip his head in my hands, resolved to keep it where it is.

Flint, however, has different plans. 

Escaping my grip, he moves up along me and resumes kissing me.

His trousers scrape over my dick which twitches desperately at the touch. I let out a moan, almost forgetting to be quiet again. 

He pulls away a bit, only to grind down a second later, smirking at my pushing up into him.

Finally, he has mercy on me and his lips wander down to my chest again. He sucks on my nipple while his hand gives me a few lazy strokes, as if testing the waters.

I put my hands on his shoulders to give myself something to hold on to again, digging my nails into his skin. 

He hums in appreciation, the vibrations tickling my skin, and bites into my nipple one last time.

Then he moves down, pausing briefly to look up at me before licking along the length of my shaft.

Really, I almost regret they didn’t gag us. Well, I only kind of regret they didn’t gag _me_. It’s all I can do not to shout out loud while he keeps moving his lips over me.

His grip on my hips tightens in warning, and I get it together. A bit. 

Enough so that I don’t scream the ship down when he swallows me whole a few seconds later. 

He gets into a steady rhythm of taking me in whole and then releasing me slowly, sucking on my tip before swallowing me again. He doesn’t even need to speed up to make me feel like I’ve turned into a pile of goo, unable to do anything other than enjoy.

I won’t last long like this. I never had any particular hopes of lasting long with _him_ , but I’m still surprised by how rapidly I’m nearing the edge. 

Before I can get out a warning, I’m already coming inside of him. 

The sight of him swallowing my whole load would make me half-hard if I wasn’t so spent. Right now, it’s all I can do to try to remember the image for my next wank.

When I’ve regained my senses, he’s straddling me, his cock a hot presence against my lower abdomen. 

“Will you return the favour?” he asks. His left hand is drawing circles around my nipples and his right hand is slowly, almost stealthily, stroking along the bulge in his trousers.

My cock gives an interested twitch, and by his smirk, he’s felt it too. 

“Or would you just like to watch me getting myself off?” he continues.

As much as I like the idea of that, I don’t know whether I’ll ever get this chance again, and I’m not ready to go back to admiring from afar just yet. Or ever.

“I’d love to return the favour”, I reply. Then I reach up to pull his head down so I can kiss him. Once I’m satisfied with his position over me, I reach down with my hand and fiddle with his fly, opening it.

I pull out his cock and start stroking along his shaft. His kissing gets clumsier as I keep moving my hand up and down along his shaft. I spread the pre-come dripping out of his cock all over the length. He moans against my mouth at the sensation.

Trusting him to be quiet enough as well, I remove my mouth from his and start sucking on and biting into the skin on his neck.

Worried that this will leave bruises, I move down even further to the skin close to his collarbones, where his shirt will hide any bruises. 

“I preferred the neck”, he grunts.

“Everyone will see the bruises there”, I retort.

“Then kiss me properly if you’re so worried about bruising.” 

He readjusts in an attempt to kiss me, but ends up missing my mouth and burying his head in my shoulder when I twist my hand to a different angle. 

He doesn’t last long after that, aided by my free hand rubbing over his ass cheeks. His breathing becomes ever quicker and less regular at my shoulder, until he spills all over my chest and hand.

We both lie there, James collapsed on top of me, until there is a knock on the door and it briefly opens a few inches, luckily not far enough to reveal us. A bucket gets pushed in before the door shuts again.

James gets up to investigate, wincing a bit at the stickiness between as he does. When he starts laughing, I get up and join him. He hands me a note. It reads: ‘For whenever you feel like relocating to the Captain’s cabin. The door is no longer locked.’

In the bucket, there is a piece of cloth and some water.

“So this all was a set-up?” I ask.

“I suppose Mr. De Groot got fed up with your pining”, James laughs.

“Not only his”, I hear a grumble from the other side of the door. 


End file.
